Page 43 of Single Chance

“I won’t be showing for several weeks.”

“You’ll sign up for health insurance right away?” He put precooked pasta in the microwave.

“Already done.”

Again he met my gaze. “Thank you.”

“It’s a relief,” I told him. “I never intended to not have insurance, but when my Gram was no longer able to be by herself, my life kind of blew up.”

My stomach gurgled with uneasiness as Chance set a large salad in front of me then followed it with a plate of steaming chicken and pasta. I wasn’t sure if it was the food or the emotions that aroused the hint of nausea.

“She was lucky to have you,” he said as he took the stool next to me and pulled his own plate close.

I felt that oh-so-familiar swelling in my throat. “I was lucky to have her first.” I shoved a bite of salad in my mouth to give myself a few seconds. As I chewed, I battled down the fresh wave of emotions. By the time I swallowed, I could say more without my voice wavering. “She took me in when my parents died.”

“You said they were in an accident?”

“They’d saved up for the honeymoon of their dreams. It’d been seven years since they got married. They finally got to go to Hawaii. They went on one of those helicopter tours of the islands, and their helicopter crashed.”

“Jesus. That’s awful.” He took another bite and chewed. Eventually he said, “Losing a parent is damn hard no matter how old you are. Both at once?” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”

“Did you lose yours?”

“No. They live in Missouri. We’re not close. But Sam… I’ve seen what losing her mom did to her. I sometimes wonder if she’d be less…lost if her mom was still alive.”

“That’s hard to say. Impossible to prove,” I said. “Teenagers are dealing with so much even if they have a solid family life.”

“I know that. I just wonder how I can do better, be more for her. Kissing her boo-boos when she was little was one thing. Filling in for her mother now?” He shook his head. “I’m fucking drowning.”

As we ate, he told me about Sam’s friend struggles and how he’d found her at the beach with boys and alcohol.

“Those ‘friends’ dumped her,” he said between bites of chicken.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re torn between being pissed at the kids for hurting your daughter and relieved she’s no longer friends with them.”

“That sums it up. She stayed home all weekend. She seems sad. The only good thing is that she let me comfort her Thursday night. That hasn’t happened for months.”

“Those kids weren’t the right ones for her.”

“I know that, and you know that,” he said.

“She probably knows it too.”

He nodded and shoved his empty plate and bowl away. I did the same, though I’d only eaten half of it.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked. “Or you didn’t like it?”

“I liked it,” I said in a rush. “It was really good, but my stomach is wobbly lately.”

“Morning sickness?”

“Morning sickness, yes. Smell-of-food sickness, yes. It comes and goes throughout the day. The heavier the food, the more likely it is to bring on nausea.”

“My wife had the round-the-clock nausea,” he said sympathetically. “The upside is that it’s a sign of a healthy pregnancy.”

I’d read that too. “I appreciate you cooking for me. It really was tasty…until that flip of the stomach.”

Chance stood, went around the counter to the sink, and rinsed off both plates. He placed them in the dishwasher as I drank the rest of my water.

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